merry christmas

This evening in the glow of the western setting sun, I went to my first ‘end of year’ event for the year.

The National Gallery end of year shopping night for members. It was a refined beginning of the end of the year mayhem.

A little treat for everyone. A bit of browsing. A live choir that mesmerised the toddler. The fantastic fountain at the new front entrance and the pears for a diversion, while some chilling out and chatting occured. The shopping itself was just an add on. I would have gone just to hear the music and drink the sparkling wine.

I got a few bits and pieces to add to the gifts pile. Plus a few more goodies arrived this morning in the post including yet more MT tape! I am seriously addicted to that stuff now. Pretty. So pretty. I have enough stuff now to start wrapping and list making and packing some things ready for posting. This weekend marks the start of one of the two busiest periods in our family calendar. December is second only to May for birthdays and celebrations. Not only do we have end of year, Christmas, Boxing Day, and cricket, we have birthdays. Lots and lots of them.

The birthdays this year include littlest niece, favourite twins, big niece, my brother, my two best friends’ three year olds, both of them on the same day, and of course, last but not least toddler will turn three on the 27th. Time will tell if this birth date is a burden or not. What is clear, is that a special birthday needs planning, a beach and a bucket and spade. And an umbrella and a big esky for the darling boy’s exhausted parents.

Tonight I am going to the same party I went to last year. It is the same party that Robert has been to every year except one, for the past twenty years. Tonight there will be a spring in my step at this party. Not only because I will see friends and have good conversations and perhaps a glass of bubbles in my hand while I chat. But also because this year, at this party, I will not be 40 weeks pregnant. Not being pregnant is what I am grateful for today.

Being pregnant is great. You get to make another person. From scratch. It’s exciting and nerve-wracking. But at the 40 week mark, it is all a bit much. It’s too much for you, it’s too much for your man, it’s too much for everyone. You completely lose your sense of humour. You are hot (especially last year during the heat wave that was Canberra summer.) Your feet hurt. Your back hurts. Frankly, every bit of you hurts. And you just want the baby to come. Now. Preferrably with minimal pain and fuss.

Last year, this party was on the 18th December. My brother’s birthday. My estimated due date was the 21st. I was convinced it couldn’t possibility take much longer. Surely the baby was cooked and ready. At the party, last year I remember people gasping when they saw me side on. I remember being assisted up tiny steps by well meaning guests. I remember the host practically carried me up their steep driveway at the end of the evening.

As it turned out, he wasn’t quite ready. Benedict was born at 40 weeks and 6 days, on the 27th December.

This year, I will not be wearing my ode to a Grecian urn dress – gorgeous empire line pale sage green. I’ll be wearing a bright red dress with my ‘congratulations on having a baby’ earrings. My other accessories will include a gorgeous nearly one year old child on my hip and my fabulous man by my side. This week, I remember how far I have come in one short year. Cheers and merry Christmas.